


Erase Me

by Soft_and_Warm



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Pain, Stress, Thank the MSA discord server for giving me this idea, anxious boy, breakfast times, but things get very very bad before they get better, cursing, hahaha Lewis do you regret what you've done you dumb ghost, i guess, kitsune!, lmao giant doggo, sorta?, who doesn't love pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soft_and_Warm/pseuds/Soft_and_Warm
Summary: "Ghosts ran on willpower.Arthur had none."Lewis' desire for revenge has driven him to erase and bend Arthur's mind, leaving it a hollow shell of what it once was. His soul is left broken and scattered into places unknown. Things are tense, and Lewis is trying desperately to fix his mistake.He just hopes he can fix Arthur before the mechanic falls apart.





	1. A Start

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [cold and hard and petrified](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488941) by [emAvox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emAvox/pseuds/emAvox). 



Ghosts ran on willpower. They ran on the fumes of emotion of their death, their dying wish keeping them on earth.  Without a will, most ghosts became faceless empty shells that drifted until they faded away. 

 

Lewis lived as a ghost with the fury of a thousand suns.

 

Lewis held Arthur tightly by his shirt, glaring deeply at his killer. The light reflected sharply off the cavern walls, highlighting the fear on Arthur’s face. Unadulterated panic and dilated pupils desperately searching for a way out. He would not find one, Lewis’ grip tight as his will. His husked pupils, however, flickered at the mechanical arm that gripped his arm. 

 

It seemed even cowards like Arthur panicked in the face of death. 

 

The stalagmites glowed brighter, calling for the panicked mechanic to suffer the same fate Lewis had. But Lewis’ death had been quick, and Arthur deserved no such mercy. Arthur would never feel the sick feeling of waking up, hoping to wake up next to his friends and awaken from the nightmare. He wouldn’t understand the crushing feeling of loneliness, clashing into a bitter mix with anger for the months he spent alone, and even the remaining ones hollow with the deadbeats by him. Never to understand what it was like to burn Vivi’s memories of him away, knowing she couldn’t live with what she saw. 

 

A idea formed in Lewis’ head. Memories. Arthur had rewritten his story, cutting his life that he could’ve spent holding Vivi short. Now Lewis held the power, the master of this tale. 

 

And he wanted Arthur’s tale to end with suffering. 

 

With a quick snap of his fingers, Arthur’s soul lit up to him. A golden star, hovering right in front of the very same star pin that Lewis had given him. Strangely, it had a solid crack down the middle that faintly dimmed the glow. It went ignored, however, when Lewis took his free hand and beckoned for the gate to the soul to open. Arthur screamed and the ghost spirit dived inside. 

 

***

 

It was at first only sharp bright light, that would make Lewis’ eyes hurt if they weren't made from flickering magenta flame. The light quickly receded, however, and the ghost found himself floating in a small workshop. It breathed life, contrasted by the flickering star in the middle of the room that screamed bloody murder. 

 

Where to begin? Lewis hummed to himself as colored pictures gently swirled around him. Blue, Yellow, Red, Orange, Purple, Green and Gray and Black blurred around him. Some he recognized mimicked an Arcana style, others a casual playing card or just a plain picture snapped with a camera. What he remembered from Vivi was that the important ones glowed, so he gently floated upwards to find a card that would be the nicest to burn. 

 

  
Around him, the star shaped soul quivered, wailing and burning with a unfamiliar and strengthened desperation. Did he recognize his approaching demise? The whispering mantra filled the room, but it did not reach the ghost’s ears. ( _I’m scared what’s going on I don’t want to die I still need to find him this feels too familiar and it hurts-)_ His fingers found purchase, fingers reaching for a orange card that glowed brightly. 

 

The card in question was a faded picture of Arthur and Lance, Arthur standing proud at a fixed engine. Both he and Lance were smeared with oil, yet they both gazed at the camera with a big smile on their faces. The ghost flipped it over, gazing at the small writing drawn with sharpie. ( _ First engine! It’s so fun working with Uncle Lance!)  _

 

Lewis had been there that day, watching Arthur work diligently on the busted engine. The day had been warm, and Lance had pulled the garage door open so they could feel the warmth of the sun on their skin as they worked. He watched as Lance pulled Arthur into a gentle hug, telling him how proud he was-

 

The edges of the picture were Lewis’ cold hands held it caught fire, magenta flames devouring the picture whole. He simply willed for it to be gone, and the picture faded to gray ash. Lewis’ heart chuckled sadistically, and he reached for another. 

 

Working at the shop. Gone. 

 

Lance holding Arthur while he cried. Gone. 

 

Arthur helping Lance when his skills had already surpassed his. Gone. 

 

The two of them sitting alone, telling Arthur about the new small hamster he fondly held. Gray ash falling to the ground. 

  
  


But burning it wasn’t enough for Lewis, his heart chanting for more. He reached for another card, orange yet dulled and sharp on the corners. This memory, Lance scolding Arthur for being irresponsible and not taking care of himself.

 

This wasn’t enough.

 

Lewis clutched the card in his hand, all warmth and color slowly dripping away. Now Lance was yelling at Arthur, furious at him for screwing things up. He screamed, telling Arthur how he regretted inviting him into the house, wasting time on him, that he was worthless, a disappointment, good for nothing-

 

Arthur’s soul shuttered, a small crack spreading from the center. 

 

Lewis hunted, the warm orange cards gone and forgotten. He greedily reached for the grayed cards, the edges sharpening into blades that cut through Arthur’s soul. Lewis burned the last card, floating down to touch the white floor. No joy remained with orange, instead guilt and shame. Glancing at the soul in the center, he looked at a large gash that broke through and was close to splitting the star clean in half. The crying had fallen to a whisper, almost as if it was too ashamed to speak.

 

( _ I thought he was safe he hates me I hurt him waste of space pathetic mom and dad were right-) _

 

The vengeful ghost hesitated for a moment. Arthur never talked about his parents. He glanced around the room, and where the once a toolbox with the repair shop sitting on the table there was nothing, a frame over there once orange now empty. 

 

Lewis ignored the tugging in the back of his mind, floating up to a whirlwind that had patches missing. His fingers hesitated for a moment, blindly grabbing a card. His hand found a bright blue card, Vivi in the center of the stage singing proudly to a crowd. 

 

Vivi’s first theater performance in high school. Arthur had been tech, watching Vivi from the sides of the stage with adoration. 

 

Vivi. 

 

The ghost’s spirit burned, the card gone in less than a heartbeat. Arthur had taken Vivi from him, taken his love from him because of jealousy. 

 

Lewis felt like returning the favor. 

 

All the blue cards swirled around him like a hurricane, bright and dull alike. With one snap, they all burst into magenta flame. 

 

The star cracked twice, two strong cracks splitting in the center. Lewis heard it very well from where he floated, glaring at where the card in his hand once was. 

 

( _ Cold and lonely it hurts alone only one friend I have to find him where did he go I loved him-) _

 

But the soul was lying, because a murderer like Arthur could never love anyone. 

 

And like that Lewis was on a roll. A card dripped to a hollow gray, Galahad hurt all because of Arthur and Lance had to take him away because who could trust a mistake like him, picture frames becoming empty and a reminder of how pathetic he was, the Pepper family glaring at him because he was such a mess and they knew what he had done and everyone was watching, the destruction and warping slowly splitting each corner of the soul. The catalog swirled around him grayed and empty and hollow, and this is what Lewis wanted. 

 

Right? 

 

Lewis stopped, his feet touching the ground. The catalog was almost gone by now, all but one card dull and sharp. Looking around, had Arthur’s mind always been this… cold? A room once filled with personality and life had only one table left, a picture frame with Arthur and Lewis grinning at the camera and a bottle of pills sitting next to it. This felt wrong in a way that Lewis couldn’t place. 

 

Oh, it was because Arthur’s spirit had all but stopped speaking, his mantra hushed and broken. 

 

( _ Pathe---c------wor--less-------on-y-----le---lew-s----al----one)  _

 

That must be why. 

 

Lewis stepped towards the picture frame on the table, and gave a good look at it. 

Their first ghost bust, and Arthur was scared out of his mind. But he had come along regardless, where he was frequently chased. They had made it out alive, Arthur in the back quivering. 

 

_ (“Here, I saved this for you. I’m really glad you came with us Artie.”) _

  
A golden star pin, placed gently into Arthur’s hand. Arthur had looked at him with a such a warm look then, seeing past the star as if it were something more. 

 

But there was nothing to it. Arthur had pushed him off a cliff, killed him and left him alone. 

 

Lewis summoned all the purple cards, twisting and folding into one. A purple card that glowled warmly and his name written in cursive with golden ink. 

 

_ Say goodbye, Arthur.  _

 

With a snap that rang with finality, the card burned. With a shudder, the picture frame on the table burned with it, leaving only the bottle of pills. 

 

The ghost looked at his work. The whirl of memories was a painfully slow whirl of grays, the room just as empty as the growing pit in his stomach. The soft golden light that once lit up the room was all but gone, a husk of what it was before. 

 

Had he gone too far? 

 

No. Arthur had killed him, Arthur was his murderer, Arthur was the one who was the monster. Lewis flew up to the catalog, looking for the cave. This would be what he needed to rest his soul, to remind him how he was right that he shouldn’t be feeling so bad over doing this to him. 

 

Wait. Lewis’ hand rested over a pointed card, green and dripping fog. This was the cave, no doubt. 

 

So why was it locked with a heavy black chain? 

 

With both hands he fiercely gripped the chains, surprised at the resistance it held. 

 

( _ Use---s-------it---hu-rts---i---dont wa-t---g---uilt--)  _

 

He needed to see this. He needed to know how Arthur felt when he pushed him off to his death.

 

The tugging became more frantic. 

 

( _ p-le--as--e--st-o-p--d---nt----w--t--rem-em----ber--) _

 

Why wouldn’t these goddamn chains break-

 

( _ guilt--ygu-ilt-y-gu-ilt---y-g-ui-lty--) _

 

With a final tug, the black chains broke. 

 

  
And Arthur’s soul  _ screamed.  _ It spilt with a sharp crack, the five edges splitting and launching away, leaving only one shattered bit crying and wailing. 

 

( _ murderermurdererguiltymurderermurderermurdererkilledhimmurderermurderer-) _

 

And Lewis didn’t understand, holding the card and watching the memory play inside his head. 

 

Where he wanted to see jealousy, he saw emptiness. He watched Arthur pull back, too afraid to admit how lonely he felt. He watched as Arthur’s soul fought as the creeping cave spirit crawled up through his arm, watched as Arthur cried as he was forced to push Lewis off, watched as his arm was ripped straight from the socket to save him even though it hurt so  _ much-  _

 

When it ended, Lewis’ heart cracked. 

 

He made a terrible mistake. 

 

The looked at the empty room, the pills, and the small fragment that floated weakly with the smaller broken shards hovering near it, and he understood. 

 

In a panic he jumped out of Arthur’s soul, and watched as Arthur fell like a marionette with cut strings. His eyes looked blindly outwards, hollow and empty. They shouldn’t belong to Arthur, who talked passionately about his works, who jumped animatly every time he was scared, who cared for all of them with his life, who would never had done something like this and Lewis was so so wrong. He gently picked Arthur up, fire burning an illusion of flesh in hopes of providing Arthur any comfort. 

 

He tried to speak, but his voice quivered and came out hushed.

 

“A-Arthur?” 

 

Arthur’s gazed slowly drifted to him, with those empty eyes. Empty eyes without a will. They looked at him without seeing, looking at a stranger. 

  
  


Ghosts ran on willpower. 

 

Arthur had none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha :)


	2. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toot toot all abord the regret train.

If the regret hadn’t kicked in then, it did now. Oh god, now Arthur was quivering in his arms. A part of him that had burrowed deep long ago surfaced up, that protective nature that got him in trouble enough times that he couldn’t remember the number off the top of his head.

Lewis put his hands to Arthur’s forehead, and even through the skeletal gloves he could feel the uncomfortable heat radiating off. The single soul shard that remained pulsed weakly, a dying heart with irregular rhythm.

It didn’t take a genius to realize how bad a condition he was in. The prosthetic arm still hung loosely and showed no sign of moving. It was scratched and banged up from the crash and he noted the purple flames that faintly danced across the metal (He was desperate, fearful of the ghost that chased him. Irrationally kicked in). It gave out one last spark to prove his point.

He was a spirit made of flame and revenge. He didn’t know any healing magic that could help for the fever, let alone fix the drumming of his soul that shouldn’t be that weak. (Even if he did, he had already started to grow distrustful of his own hands).

Arthur had been in the van. Vivi was with Arthur in the van. Vivi was smart. Vivi was better. Vivi could get him help he needed.

The illusion of the cave pulled away, the fire pulling back into the locket, and it left Lewis and Arthur alone in the back of the van. He felt woozy for a moment, and decided to drop the illusion.

“…

who are you.”

Arthur spoke at last, so quickly and in a hushed whisper that Lewis almost missed it. His eyes were unfocused, empty and acting with no agency. Had he spoken out of curiosity, fear? Something else? The ghost grimaced, quickly rifling through ways he could respond.

“I’m-”

(An old friend. A ghost. A spirit once out for vengeance. The one who tried to kill you. The one who broke you. A stranger. Someone who made a terrible mistake.)

“I’m… here to protect you.”

He willed for the deadbeats to open the door, floating outside of the semi. If memory served him right, the van had crashed right into a building, which was right over-

**BAM!**

Lewis (and Arthur) tensed up at the unexpected sound.  Vivi was crouched under Mystery (red and dangerous and red like blood red and pain), while the tree yokai held a hand over the new hole over her stomach. Lance was the one holding the shotgun, his body aggressive and ready to shoot again.

Vivi. Beautiful Vivi. Blue and bright. Red stained against the blue. He needed to protect Vivi. He needed Vivi to fix Arthur. Arthur needed help.

The tree yokai quickly recovered but was cut off from her movement when she was surrounded by a ring of fire that burned high. All eyes were on him, eyes blazing and holding a shivering Arthur in his arms.

“LEAVE.”

Magenta flames closed in, the yokai trying to backup. Mystery took this opportunity to lunge at her while her back was turned. She narrowly avoided it, her area of movement almost gone with the ring quickly closing in. She looked desperate. Frantic. Even in her craze she realized she was not in a good spot.

“I’ll be back,  _ mutt. _ ”

And with that she dove into the ground. Lewis allowed the flames to go out, his attention locked on Vivi.

Vivi was looking at him.

“Who are ya, and why do you have my nephew!” Lance interrupted, stepping forward with the shotgun. Even though Lewis towered over the man and the fact he was a ghost that couldn’t be hurt like that, Lance appeared very threatening.

Lewis said nothing, instead looking over Lance’s shoulders and at Vivi instead. Fawning over Mystery’s kitsune form, always fond of something new.

“Let me see him!”

The request startled the ghost, who quickly looked at Arthur. His gaze was focused on the ground and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. A gaze mixed with shame.

(The orange card in his hands grayed, turning sharp and twisted.)

His saving grace, however, was Vivi. Clutching her wounded arm, she ran up to the ghost. 

The golden locket on his chest started beating frantically.

“Hey! You’re that one ghost from that mansion, aren’t cha?” She said, looking him up and down in awe. “Thanks for chasing out that yokai, she was going crazy and almost chopped off my arm or whatever. But like,” Vivi bent her head to get a better look and Lewis felt paranoid of his appearance, “weren’t you chasing Artie? And you tried to kill him.”

The ghost paled.

“Speaking of, what’s with Artie? He’s looking really sick. I didn’t see what happened since I was busy not getting murdered by a freaky tree lady, but he did end up crashing the car, so I’d imagine he’s no doing so well.”

It was at this moment that he realized how bad of a situation this was. How was he supposed to explain thoroughly breaking Arthur? He needed time to think, time to figure out how to fix this. If they found out here… futures swirled around in his head. Lance would hunt him down, desiring revenge for his nephew. Mystery would find him, no matter where he ran, and chances are the kitsune would know a million and one ways of making him suffer. If Vivi found out... she’d never forgive him. Lewis would be alone again, alone to bear the guilt of what he did.

“I-I know you have a lot of questions, i’ll answer them later. But I need to take care of Arthur.”

Lewis made a hasty retreat, turning back into the shop. Luckily Lance had left the door wide open, so he didn’t have to work extra for that.

It’s been a long time since he went anywhere that wasn’t the mansion. The repair shop wasn’t a regular visit, but a nice one when they did. Sometimes to visit Arthur, back when he didn’t have his apartment, other times when a ghost bust ended up with the van roughened up. Lance came off as tough, but his friendly side shined with his interactions with Arthur. The crew had grown on the old man. Dog treats stashed in the cabinets. A ridiculous number of snacks ready in the fridge.  A pepper in the back. Supportive advice to anyone who asked.

God, he missed that so much.

The deadbeats opened the door for him, leading to the more private part of the shop. Lance’s desk was littered with clutter, the most notable the half built prosthetic on the table. (He might need it, considering how broken Arthur’s current arm was). The hallway decorated with picture frames led Lewis to Arthur’s room. Lewis opened the door, cringing at the mess Arthur’s floor had become. There was a cork-board up (Lewis tried to pretend he didn’t know why it was up), and Galahad’s cage with a sleeping Galahad next to it.

Lewis gently lowered Arthur to the bed. The soft mattress a luxury compared to the makeshift bed in the back of the van. The mechanic’s hand lingered for a heartbeat longer before quickly pulling away. Still so empty. Was he in shock? Dissociating? He was still stuck in the cave when Vivi supposedly went through the initial recovery, and the mechanic’s case was significantly more severe than hers. For a year of experimenting, he still knows very little of his powers.

Lewis stepped out of the room, pushing the door shut.

He needed something for his fever. It’d be easy to get that, the medicine cabinet was pretty nicely stocked. For the memories… that was significantly more difficult. It was easy to break things, to burn and twist the memories. Fragile slips of paper. He needed something to unwarp the remaining cards, something to bring the ones that were ash back.

(Two birds with one stone. He could bring Vivi’s memories back.)

The ghost didn’t realise he was pacing across the hallway until he stopped, detecting movement movement down the dark hallway.

“Lance?”

Next thing he knew he was on his back, sharp claws digging into his chest. Panic started filling body, squirming underneath a red gaze.

“ **What have you done?** ”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha as you can see cliffhangers are fun.
> 
> Hope you got a good explanation for this ghost pepper.
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter, the red eye killed me.


	3. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Mystery have the 'Talk'. 
> 
> And it's not about any birds.

There’s something about being pinned by old Kitsune centuries older and wiser than you that makes one panic. Something about being helpless and having no control over you own life that kicked one’s survival instinct into high gear. It leaves one wondering if that red glare can actually kill you.

Lewis struggled under Mystery’s grip. Something like that wouldn’t hurt if it weren’t for the magic that pulsed within the creature, sharpened claws digging into his form. And it _hurt._

“ **WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!** ” The beast growled, the grip on Lewis getting tighter. If he had lungs, the breath would be forced from his chest.

“I-I” The ghost stuttered, wriggling under the claws. Mystery wanted answers. Answers. The truth. The truth was horrible. The truth would end with a broken locket. Lewis couldn’t leave yet, he still needed to do so much-!

” **Wrong answer. Strike** **_one_ ** **.** ” The grip on the ghost tightened, limited his movement to almost none.

“I-I… I attacked Arthur and tried to drop him off a cliff..”  

“ **THAT IS** **_NOT THE TRUTH_ ** **. ATTEMPTING TO KILL ARTHUR DOES NOT EXPLAIN WHY HIS SOUL IS ON THE VERGE OF DISAPPEARING, IT DOES NOT EXPLAIN WHY HIS AURA HIS AURA IS SEVERELY LACKING, AND IT DOES NOT EXPLAIN WHY HE ACTS WITH NO AGENCY!** ”

Mystery was in his face now, giving the ghost a front seat to sharpened rows of teeth that could (did) bite a limb clean off. The kitsune was furious, practically foaming at the mouth.

“ **STRIKE TWO, AND THE THIRD I BITE YOUR ANCHOR AND** **_THERE IS NO COMING BACK FROM THAT._ **”

Is this what a panic attack feels like? Breaths coming in shortening intervals. Had the room hallway always been this small? It was like the first day when he woke up from the cave, or something like while he was falling. Nobody could look death in the eye, and Lewis was afraid. Arthur. Vivi. His family. He wanted to keep living, living half alive in this twisted undead fashion.

Breathe Lewis, he told himself. Relax. Lewis took a deep breath and stopped struggling. There was only one way left. The truth. No more sugar coating, and if Mystery killed him here…

He took a single breath. “I cornered him, and I was out for revenge. I made him suffer. Most memories I just burned. He… he doesn’t remember. Some of them I twisted. You. Lance. The Peppers. There was almost nothing left…. And I found a locked memory. I was confused. Guilty, and I forced the memory open.”

There was a lot of things he got wrong or didn’t know. One of them was that didn’t know was that ghosts _could_ cry, magenta tears of harmless flame trickling down his skull.

“I saw it all, Mystery. I saw him lonely, yet he cared too much to say anything. W-with the demon, the cave, it said such nice things to him. It promised him so much in exchanged for two l-friends that didn’t care about him. You know what he said?”

Lewis’ face scrunched up, tears blurring his eyes.

“He told the demon no. Told him to fuck off, because he’d rather die than hurt any one of us. But the demon took him the hard way and Arthur, he was begging. He offered himself, he offered anything, just asked for me to be spared. When the demon pushed me... he broke. And then you came in and tore his arm off and through the pain all he wanted to know if I was ok, if somehow I survived the fall. He called himself such nasty things… I have to fix this Mystery. I should’ve known but I was a fool and Arthur doesn’t deserve this…”

 

Lewis cringed, expecting teeth to clamp down on the locket. Instead he felt the weight on his chest lift. The ghost struggled back on his feet, carefully watching Mystery for anymore movement.

“ **You, Lewis Poblano Pepper, are a very foolish ghost. You took Vivi’s memories in your dying wish. Although I wouldn’t recommend it, I saw the logic behind it. She loved you and you loved her and she saw you die. Fine. She wouldn’t do very well with her grief. Then you went after Arthur, which was bad. You thought Arthur was your killer. You gave him a scare, but he made it out alive. He lived. But this?** ”

 

Mystery jabbed a paw at Arthur’s door.

 

“ **You’ve thoroughly broken Arthur in a way that cannot be easily fixed.** ”

 

Lewis looked down at the ground in shame. “Can it be-?”

 

“ **Fortunately for your health, yes. I know quite a few methods for restoring memories, but you will have to gather the supplies. I have grown rather comfortable in this life, and I will not go around fixing your mistakes. You are also tasked with fixing Arthur’s soul, because with his soul shattered, constantly singing of an easy snack to every hungry ghoul, ghost, undead or yokai, you will find it difficult to accomplish anything. Where the other parts of his soul had gone, I do not know. Places of comfort or impact are the most likely area where you could find it. This is your issue, Pepper. Stalling with a tale of amnesia could work, but it will not work forever.** ”

 

“If I fail?” He asked in a fearful whisper.

 

“ **If you fail,** ” Mystery stepped closer to him, tails outstretched and teeth bared, “ **I will hunt you down, and don’t doubt I won’t find you. I will tear you** **_limb by limb_ ** **and feed your soul to any passing yokai a breath smarter than you. And that is a very low bar with what you just did. Understand?** ”

 

Lewis gulped and nodded.

 

“ **Rest now, Pepper. You have quite an interesting day ahead of you.** ”

 

He blinked and Mystery had shrunken down, licking his paw. The fury had all but left his red eyes, the kit-dog peering at him through his glasses. With one last glance at the ghost, he turned back and treaded down the hall.

 

Fix this. Lewis could fix this. Lewis leaned against the wall, mind whirling with thoughts.

 

Amnesia. That could work. He could make this work. There was hope.

***

It was very dark outside, the night calling the hour to sleep, but something kept them up. Dreamless nights, exhaustion, fear of something that kept them up. Talking that caught their attention that dragged them out from their desk and had them press their ear against the wall.

 

They slipped back into their bed, having eavesdropped enough to understand what was going on.

 

That conversation was a lot to process, pulling the blanket closer to their chest. The cogs in their brain were turning and an idea started forming. Unanswered questions. A blurry haze. There was something wrong and they didn’t know.  

 

“Lewis.” They tested the name on their tongue, before drowning in their thoughts  

 

_Lewis._

 

_Familiar…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. Yes you. I see you there. You ain't slick. Sneaky lil bastard. 
> 
> Hrm.... You should be asleep....
> 
> Evesdroppers are really bad. Especially when you know only half the story... 
> 
> What are you going to do with that information?


	4. Breakfast and Ills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis sits down and has a conversation that goes somewhat well.

Golden sunlight started piercing through the windows, yet nobody else moved through the halls.  Last night was an intense one, so it was justified that the residents would want to sleep in.

 

All except one ghost, who refused to retreat into his anchor. He has spent the last night concocting a story, memorizing counters and answers. Plans and ideas that were less cemented swirled in his mind, time becoming a blurry haze. It wasn’t until he looked up at the warm light streaming through the windows that he realized how much time had passed.

 

It’s morning. The current residents of the shop would be waking up soon. They’d be looking for answers. They’d be hungry.

 

Breakfast! He could make breakfast. A nice comfortable breakfast that would warm their stomachs and might help amend his rather awful first impression.  Just what they needed.

 

Lewis floated down to kitchen, meals already in his head. Back in the mansion, he had to use ghostly constructs instead of real ingredients, and even then, he didn’t bake that often since he decided stewing in hatred was a better use of his time. But here, Lewis smiling as he opened the fridge, there was real food and a real reason to make it. Eggs, cheese, some vegetables here and there. Pushing the milk aside, he reached for the tomatoes in the back. Eggs, eggs, eggs, omelets. Omelets. Omelets would work.

 

A few deadbeats flew out of his locket and started filling the kitchen. Although to an outsider, their words sounded like chittering instruments, Lewis could understand their excitement.

 

_The master is cooking?_

_The master is cooking!_

_Master wants us to help!_

_We get to cook!_

_New place, new place!_

 

Although they sometimes worked outside of Lewis’ will, it seemed that they could all agree that breakfast was a reason to work in a unified fashion. The chittering shifted to commands and orders. They quickly scattered to separate parts of the kitchen, one reaching for a skillet, another grabbing cooking knives, and soon the kitchen was prepared for some world-renowned Pepper cooking. He snapped his fingers, his black suit morphing into a comfortable cooking apron for working in the kitchen.

 

It was only when Lewis fell into the rhythm of cooking did he realize how much he missed it. Sometimes it felt less like a chore, and more of a dance. Reaching for the bowl of eggs to quickly whisk, and passing it off to a deadbeat while you grabbed some spices from the cabinet. Moving around with even steps. Everything went smoothly, Lewis and the deadbeats fallings into sync. Cooking was his joy, a warm experience that brought pleasant memories to his mind.

 

He didn’t notice the deadbeats were humming a song until he found himself joining in, the closest thing to a smile starting to grow on his skull. Their voices melted together, some deadbeats forming instruments in their hands and providing a musical backing.

 

“ _Ay, de mí, llorona, llorona de azul celeste._

_Ay, de mí, llorona, llorona de azul celeste._

_Y aunque la vida me cueste, llorona, no dejaré de quererte._

_No dejaré de quererte._

_Me subí al pino más alto, llorona, a ver si te divisaba._

_Me subí al pino más alto, llorona, a ver si te divisaba._ ”

 

The song grew in power, getting louder as the eggs cooked on the skillet.

 

“ _Como el pino era tierno, llorona, al verme llorar, lloraba._

_Como el pino era tierno, llorona, al verme llorar, lloraba._

_La pena y la que no es pena, llorona, todo es pena para mí._

_La pena y la que no es pena, llorona, todo es pena para mí._

_Ayer lloraba por verte, llorona, hoy lloro porque te vi._

_Ayer lloraba por verte, llorona, hoy lloro porque te vi_.”

 

The table was set, three plates and a small dish for Mystery. He found the music reaching a crescendo as the last omelet slid onto the plate and he reached for the last garnish and finishing touches.

 

“ _Ay, de mí, llorona, llorona de azul celeste._

_Ay, de mí, llorona, llorona de azul celeste._

_Y aunque la vida me cueste, llorona, no dejaré de quererte_ -”

 

“You sing?”

 

Lewis froze, the deadbeats screeching to a halt to match their master. They quickly retreated into his anchor. He turned to the door frame, which Lance was leaning against with a curious expression on his face.

 

“Uh- Yes.” Lewis nervously stiffened. “I made omelets.” He gestured at the plates with the omelets in question on them. Although he could remember their personal preference, explaining the personalized dishes would be difficult, so he opted for rather plain cheese and vegetables. He did, however, put a little bit of meat in Mystery’s.

 

Lance eyed the food, raising an eyebrow and sliding into the head seat. Picking up a fork, he poked the dish tentatively, before cutting out a slice and biting into it.

 

His eyes lit up.

 

“This is a mighty fine omelet. Is it just you, or all ghost really good at making food?” He said through bites.

 

The ghost waved dismissively, taking a seat at the left of the table. His apron had morphed back into his suit and he crossed his legs.

 

“Ah. Just me, I think.”

 

There was shuffling from down the hall, and a rather tired looking Vivi shambled to the table. Her hair was frizzed and tied in a messy ponytail without her headband. Her left arm was still wrapped in bandages, and a few scratches were still visible. On her wrist, a charm bracelet that Lewis didn’t recognize.

 

“Morning Vivi. The ghost apparently made breakfast, so you’re welcome to sit down.”

 

Her eye quickly focused on the food, sliding into the seat in front of Lewis with a revitalized spirit. She quickly dug in to the omelet and Lewis thanked his foresight for telling him to make hers just a little bit bigger.  The bluenette made a sound of pleasant surprise, and her mission to devour the food (or, at the rate she was going, inhaling it) on her plate got faster.

 

“So-“ She shoved another piece into her mouth. “Spooky magenta ghost man. First, this is really, _really_ good omelet. Second,” Another forkful. “Besides hanging out in a spooky mansion, what brings you to Tempo?”

 

Lewis inwardly cringed, shuffling to twiddle his thumbs on the table. The elephant in the room was still there, and no number of freshly made omelets would avoid it.

 

“A mission.”

 

He left it at that.

                                                                                                                     

The atmosphere became slightly thicker, though Vivi still tore through her food like a ravenous lion.

 

The mechanic eyed the ghost. He took a few bites more of his meal, before putting his fork down and staring at him dead in the eye.

 

“Now, I don’t understand why Vivi here started fighting some weird tree lady, or why Mystery is apparently a bigass dog. What I want to know is _why_ my nephew is looking like he got run over by multiple cars and like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

 

Lewis had never taken him as one to dance around the subject, and this just went to show how blunt he could be. But Lewis had come prepared, the whole night spent thinking excuses to prevent Lance from trying to pump lead into his body. He let himself ease into an acting façade, silently thanking his past self for signing up for theater in high school.

 

“Well, as you pointed out, I’m a ghost. I died, and something kept me from passing on. That something is Arthur.” He paused. “I remembered him from my past, and I tried chasing him down and cornering him to get the answers that kept me from moving on. And… well, I don’t look like the friendliest ghost in Tempo. He panicked, and in doing so he hit his head. A small look at his soul and I could see that he had damaged his soul, but that wasn’t the worse and more concerning part. His memories.”

 

“Amnesia?” Lance said, looking increasingly worried for his nephew.

 

“Yes. Severe amnesia. I feel responsible, since it is my fault that I scared him and he got hurt and forgot. I was hoping you would allow him to come with me, since I both didn’t want to burden you, and this particular method requires acquiring some materials from obscure places.”

 

“I’m coming with you.”

 

Both of their heads snapped to Vivi, who so far didn’t say a word during his story to ask a question or to poke at a gap. Her eyes shone with a quiet determination and something else, but not the love and fondness Lewis missed.

 

She still doesn’t remember. Not yet, and not for a while, if ever.  

 

Lance tightened his hands into a fist, one hand pointed aggressively at Vivi. “No, you’re not leaving! Your arm is still injured, and you have some explaining to do!”

 

“I want to help Arthur!”

 

“No! I can’t let you walk out with a good conscience! That’s just ridiculous!” He groaned.  

 

“Almost as ridiculous as holding me back from helping Arthur.”  Vivi shot back, hands on the table to lean to face Lance.

 

“I’d more readily accept this story than put you at risk! You are in no condition to be leaving!”

 

“I’m an adult!”

 

“You’re not acting like one!”

 

The bickering between Lance and Vivi continued, and Lewis awkwardly leaned back into his chair. This was not how he expected the conversation to go. Although he was grateful for his story not being scrutinized, this was not a good path to be heading down.

 

Bickering slowly escalating to shouting, emotions getting more intense and Lewis could only sit as a spectator. It grew to the point that Lewis almost missed the small figure carefully shuffling to the fridge. Dressed in an unfamiliar grey, with unslick blonde hair-

 

Arthur.

 

Vivi noticed the sudden shock, following Lewis’ eyes, and both she and Lance stopped to gape at Arthur. This was the same mechanic, but he looked almost completely different. His iconic spiked blonde hair was left ungelled, which Arthur never, ever did, and uncombed with bedhead frizz. He no longer wore the orange vest and instead he sported a baggy sweatshirt a size too big. It hung loosely on his left, and Lewis noted it there was no arm attached to it.

 

“Arthur.” The ghost said gently.

 

The mechanic flinched, turning to face Lewis. His eyes were hollow, with the bags under them looking darker than before. Lance was right, he looked ghastly. Like he was run over by multiple cars. At the same time.

 

“There’s food for you. Here.” He gestured at the remaining plate, carefully watching Arthur.

 

A look of confusion crossed his face for a moment, before drowning in the emptiness of his expression. “…Me?” In the same hushed whisper, a voice afraid of even speaking.

 

Lewis nodded, and after what was a moment of weighing the possible outcomes, the mechanic slowly shuffled to grab the plate. His movement were sluggish. Lethargic. He lifted the plate to turn back into the hallway, presumably back to his workshop.

 

“Arthur. Sit.” Lance commanded, his gruff voice underlined with pity.

 

Arthur winced, taking the plate and choosing the chair furthest from everyone at the table. It wasn’t very far, only the second head of the table. He kept his head down.

 

Vivi’s eyes softened, turning in her chair to face him.

 

“Hey Arthur. You remember me?” He didn’t look up from his food, lazily poking it with a fork.

 

“I’m Vivi. One of your friends. Your… best friend. I met you in college, back when you very closely resembled a string bean. I dragged you to join to this paranormal club, but you hated it because you were always paranoid and afraid something bad was going to happen to you. Then the club grew into a job, a group of paranormal investigators, and I kept dragging you with me. How are you feeling?”

 

She reached out to take his hand, and he jerked back without warning. He was looking over her shoulder, his remaining flesh hand gripping his loose sleeve.

 

Vivi turned to where he looked, tilting her head.

 

“It’s just Mystery! Oh, he’s out mascot, since you don’t remember. He’s also apparently a really weird not-dog, but don’t be afraid! He’s adorable and super fun to cuddle and he really likes being scratched on his head and he pretends he doesn’t like it but he secretly loves it.” She grinned.

 

Arthur scooted back in his seat, watching the dog with fearful eyes for sudden movement. The dog looked ashamed, dragging his plate with a meaty omelet to Vivi’s chair to curl up near her legs. Before, he subconsciously feared him, but now he saw the kitsune that tore of his arm. He had every right to be afraid.  

 

“Hey. Your arm. Why aren’t cha wearing it?” Lance said.

 

For the second time today, Arthur spoke in his fragmented sentences.

 

“Damaged.”

 

There was more to it, for sure, but the atmosphere was tense and nobody wanted to push it. Vivi continued digging into her dish, while Lance looked to be thinking hard. After a moment, his face lit up.

 

“Well, luckily for you, I’ve been trying to make a new arm for ya. So if that old one is too busted up, you can use this new one!” He beamed with pride, while Arthur hunched closer in on himself.

 

“F-for me?”

 

Lance paused, then smacked his head gently with his hand.

 

“Ah, you actually don't remember me? I’m Lance, your uncle.” He leaned across the table, reaching to shake hands with the younger mechanic. Somehow, he got a handshake back. “Your only surviving family. I’ll need to show you around the shop again! It’s been a while, with you off most of the time.  A nice change of pace, maybe. You need to rest, hang around for some authentic Kingsman family bonding. All this ghost hunting shenanigans and hunting for Lewis has been draining you-”

 

Arthur jerked up from his seat. Vivi had gone blank and was staring at the wall in front of her, and Mystery perked up.

 

Fuck.

 

“Lewis?”

 

Lance look baffled, continuing despite the silent pleading Lewis was sending him.

 

“Lewis Pepper? Your best friend? You’ve been looking for him for about a year now.”

 

The mechanic looked very ill, a quiet murmur under his breath escaping.

 

“Best friend?”

 

He lurched, holding his hand up to his mouth. He looked on the verge of throwing up.

 

Without another word, he dashed to his workshop.

 

The older mechanic was agape, Vivi’s eyes were flickering pink, and Mystery was glaring at Lewis. Lewis didn’t meet the kitsune’s eyes, instead looking at the plate left behind.

 

He hadn’t touched his omelet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs* Lewis is a master at messing things up.
> 
> Sorry for really inconsistent uploads, school is wack and procrastination is also wack. The previous chapters were short, so I worked on my mapping so the chapters weren't unbearably short. Hit 2K, so it seems to be working decently. 
> 
> If anyone from the Discord server is reading this: Rip. My phone got confiscated so I can't use Discord. I guess Lo will just Not Die. (p.s Lace i will get you your art somehow.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the MSA Discord server for encouraging me to write this gut punch, and who also beta'd the fic. :) 
> 
> Inspired by 'cold and hard and petrified' by emAvox. The concept was really cool, and I wondered how it would be if it was instead carried on a while longer. Tried to change it as much as I could, but I really like some themes and decided to keep em.
> 
> Gonna try to update on every Monday, but be warned: I really suck at deadlines.


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